


Performance

by darkcyan



Series: Tumblr Fics [7]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rakugo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:41:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7492083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkcyan/pseuds/darkcyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let's say that the events of Natsume happen forty, fifty years earlier.</p>
<p>Let's say that when Shuuichi's mother dies, when the gecko takes up residence under his skin, when his father and grandfather finally lose patience with his skittishness and admit to themselves that Shuuichi is not going to get better, that he's been afflicted with the same sight that used to run in their family, and will likely call down even more curses of the like that they're still struggling under generations later --</p>
<p>Let's say that Shuuichi's grandfather has a friend, who has an acquaintance, who knows someone, who manages to convince a fairly prominent rakugo master to take Shuuichi on as an apprentice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Performance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_peony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_peony/gifts).



> Originally a post [on tumblr](http://cyanmnemosyne.tumblr.com/post/140195022873/qserasera-but-what-would-happen-to-the-natsume), this fic exists because lady_peony is a menace. <3 
> 
> ~~No, I didn't think "rakugo AU" were words I'd ever say, either~~

Let's say that the events of Natsume happen forty, fifty years earlier.

Let's say that when Shuuichi's mother dies, when the gecko takes up residence under his skin, when his father and grandfather finally lose patience with his skittishness and admit to themselves that Shuuichi is not going to get better, that he's been afflicted with the same sight that used to run in their family, and will likely call down even more curses of the like that they're still struggling under generations later --

Let's say that Shuuichi's grandfather has a friend, who has an acquaintance, who knows someone, who manages to convince a fairly prominent rakugo master to take Shuuichi on as an apprentice. 

And so, grieving, afraid, half-convinced that he is the monster his family thinks he is, young Shuuichi finds himself summarily bundled off to his new master's small house, given a new place to live and a new name and a new -- everything, really. 

(He never quite stops thinking of himself as 'Shuuichi', though -- and later, has reason to remember the Natori name, too.)

* * *

He throws himself into learning the stories, the intonations, the gestures, anything and everything his new master can teach him.  He's determined to prove that he's not a monster, that he's _worth_ something.  He knows he's a curse, that his presence brings tragedy on people -- but maybe if he can make them laugh, too, that will help balance things out.  Just a little bit. 

(And he hasn't brought tragedy on his new master -- yet.)

For a while, things are calm.  There aren't many of the frightening creatures near his new master's place; only a few small ones, that seem more afraid of Shuuichi than he is of them. 

A handful more start showing up when he's practicing: he sits on the veranda, the heavy, stifling heat seeming slightly less awful outside where he can occasionally feel the hint of a breeze.  The first few times it happens, he jumps and loses his place and has to start over again, but.  They seem like they're just here to listen, not make trouble. 

Maybe monsters like rakugo too, the way Shuuichi is beginning to. 

(Is that another sign he's a monster?  But no -- his master likes rakugo more than anyone Shuuichi knows, and he's completely human.  Shuuichi thinks.)

But of course it doesn't last.  Good things never do. 

Other monsters start showing up again, like the ones at his (old) home.  Bigger ones.  Scarier ones.  They don't hurt him, but they like jumping out at him; hearing him scream.  And even _knowing_ he should ignore them, sometimes he just.  Can't. 

His master tries to ask him what the matter is.  Shuuichi considers, briefly, telling him.  (Some of the stories he's learned have demons in them, right?  Maybe his master would believe him?)

(But then he'd probably just start fearing him like his family.  Better not to risk it.)

So he prevaricates, he makes excuses, he learns that asking his master questions about the stories he's studying is a sure-fire way to distract him onto less fraught conversational avenues. 

He thinks it's worked, until the day that his master brings a friend by.  Shuuichi doesn't even notice them quietly enter the room, halfway through practicing his latest story in front of a rapt audience, until a handful of the shyest monsters squeak and disappear, and he turns to see who scared them. 

"Hello," the stranger says, and kneels in front of him, a safe distance away. 

The gecko crawls out from under his sleeve onto his right arm.  The stranger draws an audible breath. 

And Shuuichi completely forgets what he was about to say. "You can see it?" he asks. 

"I can," the stranger replies.  He looks back towards Shuuichi's master, a wry smile on his face.  "Well, the good news is, your apprentice is not possessed."

He turns back to Shuuichi.  "What is your name, child?"

"Natori Shuuichi," he says automatically, then winces. "Um.  I mean ..."

The stranger holds up a hand.  "No, that's fine.  And ... explains a few things.  Natori, huh ..."

He shakes his head, as though throwing off an unwelcome thought, and smiles again.  "Tell me, Shuuichi-kun.  How much do you know about youkai?"

* * *

Shuuichi learns a lot about the monsters -- youkai -- from the stranger.  Takuma-san, is his name.  He's an exorcist, he says; there are other people like him -- like Shuuichi -- who can see youkai.  Who help protect people from youkai, the way his master asked Takuma-san to come see if Shuuichi needed protecting.

(Shuuichi is ... not quite sure what to do with that knowledge yet, so he folds it tight and tucks it away, and only occasionally brings it back out to peek at.)

Takuma-san asks if Shuuichi would be interested in being his apprentice, too.  Not _yet_ , he adds hastily, when clouds begin to gather on Shuuichi's master's brow.  He's too young for a lot of it, anyway. (Shuuichi bristles.  He's not a _baby._ ) But someday. 

Shuuichi asks "When?"

(If he can make people laugh _and_ protect them -- maybe then --)

* * *

Takuma-san refuses to take Shuuichi on as a _proper_ apprentice until he's reached his majority, but he drops by occasionally with a scroll or a book or some parchment, ink, and a brush. 

"It's important he know how to protect himself," he tells Shuuichi's master.  "I've warded this place as well as I can, but I can't always be here." 

Takuma-san doesn't know much about the gecko, either.  But when Shuuichi bats away an outstretched hand and freezes, he at least knows enough to reassure Shuuichi that it's not contagious.  To tell Shuuichi that it's _probably_ harmless. 

"But why does it never visit my left foot?" Shuuichi asks. 

"There could be many reasons for that," Takuma-san says.  "I wouldn't want to speculate without further knowledge." But he looks vaguely uncomfortable as he does. 

(Still, even if Takuma-san refuses to tell him all of the truth, he teaches Shuuichi a lot that he couldn't have learned from anyone else.  It's enough, he thinks.  He'll make it be enough.) 

This, too, Shuuichi learns with single-minded intensity. He hasn't had to use any of it yet -- the wards Takuma-san erected drive away the nastier youkai, and if a few smaller ones still sneak through, well.  He's never _really_ minded having them as an audience. But someday --

* * *

_Everything_ takes too long, Shuuichi decides in his early teens. 

His master has started letting him do apprentice shows, with a handful of other kids his age, but only that.  And it's interesting, it's fun, but the audience is usually just their masters and a handful of older people with nothing better to do. 

(He's thrown off, the first few times he does his acts in front of a human audience.  They don't laugh in quite the same places youkai do.)  

And he's _better_ than this, he _knows_ he is. Certainly he's better than the other apprentices.  One freezes halfway through a story Shuuichi could recite in his _sleep_ , and eventually runs off the stage, holding back tears. 

(Takuma-san brings his wife along once, and his daughter, who's a gap-toothed, pig-tailed girl just enough younger than Shuuichi to feel like an eternity.  Shuuichi smiles awkwardly at them and finds the first excuse he can to escape, not sure why the experience has unsettled him so much.  He should be glad, shouldn't he?)

And when it comes to exorcism, Takuma-san _still_ won't teach him anything more than a handful of wards.  He brings a new bestiary every time Shuuichi complains and will quiz him on the weaknesses of the youkai found within them, but won't ever teach him how to exploit any of them, how to _actually_ trap them. 

Shuuichi has found a few books; a few pages of the books Takuma-san brings him that he suspects his mentor has forgotten were there.  But this is _nothing,_ he knows, compared to the knowledge Takuma-san could share with him if he wanted to. 

But, "Be patient," they both tell him.  "Enjoy your youth.  Everything else will come in time."

Shuuichi only has so much patience. 

There's not a whole lot he can do about rakugo.  But there _is_ a fairly deep forest nearby.

(The amount of patience he has always boils down to 'not enough'.)

* * *

Everything hurts.

Shuuichi cracks an eye open, and immediately regrets it.  Even the dim bluish light filtering through the window hurts. 

"Awake now, are we?"  Takuma-san's voice comes from the right.  He turns his head -- that hurts too -- and tries, more successfully, to re-open his eyes. 

Takuma-san looks angry, Shuuichi thinks.  His voice sounds it, too.  "What were you thinking?"

Memory filters back.  The youkai he'd found, stalking the forests.  He'd recognized it from one of the bestiaries; he'd hidden long enough to draw one of the few offensive charms he knew. 

It _should_ have worked. 

And maybe Takuma-san guesses his thoughts, because he removes his glasses and wipes a hand across his face and just looks -- tired.  "To be clear, I meant being in that forest _in the first place_."

There's nothing Shuuichi can think of to say that wouldn't come off as whiny, so he stares at the ceiling instead, glumly aware that that's not much better. 

"Do you know how worried we all were?" Takuma-san continued.  "If a couple of your little friends hadn't noticed the direction you went in and been willing to tell me --"

_Friends?_

Ah, the little youkai who watched his practices. maybe.  "Tattletales," Shuuichi muttered.

(He is no longer quite as surprised as he used to be, that his master and Takuma worry about him.  But it's still a thought that he'd rather not examine too closely.)

"For which you should be glad," Takuma-san said tartly.  "I know it's difficult to be patient, Shuuichi-kun.  But you're still too young.  Your power needs time to mature, and you need far more experience before you'll be ready to take on something the size of _that_ one."

"Experience I'll never _get_ , at this rate," Shuuichi says bitterly. 

"Certainly not if you keep landing yourself in the hospital."

Takuma-san sighs, shoulders sinking.  When he replaces his glasses, his gaze is unexpectedly serious.  "I know it's difficult.  Believe it or not, I was your age once, too.  But the situation is more complex than you know." 

"How _can_ I know, if you won't tell me?"

Maybe Shuuichi can blame his whining on the pain medication -- though with how much he hurts, he must not be on much. 

"... Maybe you're right," Takuma-san says, and sighs again.

* * *

Shuuichi has been out of the hospital for a week or so, but still isn't up to much, when Takuma-san visits again. 

He hesitates, wondering if he should apologize for his behavior --

(But he's _not_ sorry)

\-- but before he gets a chance, Takuma-san sits down, asks him to do the same, and with a troubled look on his face starts to explain things. 

Things like just how old and well-known the Natori name is, in exorcist circles. How notorious it is.

(Things like the fact that "exorcist circles" exist, and are much broader and better populated than Shuuichi had guessed.)

"I had wanted to shield you from this for a little while longer," Takuma-san says.  "I know I cannot protect you forever.  But the weight of the Natori name is a heavy one, and unfortunately not one you can escape."

Shuuichi draws himself up -- at least as well as he can with a broken rib -- and says, "Who said anything about escaping?"

* * *

But his master gives him a new stack of stories to learn, and is merciless in his feedback; for a while he can think of little else other than rakugo. 

Even if he were whole enough to do so, he doesn't have the _time_ to go wandering in the forest. 

(Some nights, as he lies on his futon and stares upwards at the mosquito netting and waits for exhaustion to overcome his aches and drag him to sleep, he suspects that that's intentional.)

* * *

Shuuichi heals. 

His master starts making noises about better shows; larger audiences, more complex stories.  Shuuichi tackles these just like he tackles everything else. 

(He's more accustomed to how humans react to the stories, now.  Though he never quite stops listening for youkai laughter, too.)

Takuma-san starts going with him back into the forest. ("And _only_  come with me, if I catch you running around here unprepared again, I will _not_ be happy.")

At fourteen, Shuuichi successfully seals his first youkai. 

Takuma-san smiles at him and says "Well done," and Shuuichi can't help but glow with pride.

He doesn't bring Shuuichi to exorcist meetings yet.  But that's less because he still thinks Shuuichi is too young (though he does) -- Shuuichi has pointed out that he'll figure out places and times and go on his own if he has to.

The problem is, those meetings always have the most inconvenient timing.  If it's not a practice that Shuuichi really feels the need to attend (he'd skip, but he's been having problems with this particular story for _months_ , and it never hurts to show up and act respectful around the other masters), then it's an actual performance, and there's no _way_ he would ever miss one of those.

Shuuichi may want to be an exorcist, but he's a rakugoka _first_.

* * *

The first time Shuuichi sees Matoba Seiji, he's just a face in the crowd. 

The crowds are larger, now that he's a futatsume.  Not as large as they used to be, his master laments sometimes -- but, well.  The times are the times, and Shuuichi sees no point in regret. 

Still, the other man stands out:  impeccably tailored Western-style black suit, equally black hair that he wears in a somewhat unusual style for this day and age: tied simply into a ponytail, over-long fringe falling across half his face.  A spot of darkness in a crowd that tends more towards the beige and colors of traditional clothing than the starker lines of the Western clothing that's taking over the business world. 

Shuuichi finds his eyes drawn in that direction more than once during his performance, and is disproportionately irritated that he never provokes any reaction stronger than a faint smile.

Still, rakugo isn't for everyone.  Shuuichi would probably have forgotten the experience entirely, except for the fact that it keeps happening.  For several weeks straight, the black-haired man shows up to every one of his performances, sits in the back, and smiles faintly. 

And Shuuichi attends enough of his fellow students' performances to be fairly certain that it _is_ just his performances, though that brings him no closer to an answer to the question 'why?'. 

Until, of course, he finds out from the man himself. 

* * *

It's night, late, and even with the sun long gone, the humid heat muffles Shuuichi like an unwanted blanket.  His suit sticks to him unpleasantly, and for a moment he regrets changing out of the looser kimono he'd worn for his performance, but -- appearances must be maintained, and even that wouldn't have been _comfortable_ , in this weather. 

Idle thoughts flit through his head as he exits the theater -- about his performance that night, about the next couple he has lined up, about the ridiculous heat -- but they all flee when a dark shape melts away from the wall to stand in his path and call him by his rakugo name. 

Shuuichi halts and peers at the other man; he's surprised to recognize his shadow.  "I am.  May I help you?" he asks politely. 

"I hope so," the other man says. "My name is Matoba Seiji." 

His fringe shifts slightly, showing for the first time what Shuuichi had always been too far away to see properly: a bandage covering most of the right side of the other man's face, so thickly warded that even with all of Takuma-san's tuition and his own self-study, Shuuichi can only parse about half of it. 

But of course, it makes sense, if he is who he says he is.  ( _Too young, for so much responsibility_ , Takuma-san had said, shaking his head, one time when he dropped by to pass on gossip and requests he thought might be of interest to Shuuichi, since he still failed to attend the meetings in person far more often than not.)

"What does the head of the Matoba clan wish from me?" Shuuichi asks.  Still politely, but more guarded now. 

( _It's best not to get on their bad side.  Really, if you can manage it, it's best not to be noticed at all,_ Takuma-san had said another time.)

"Ah, so the rumors really are true," Matoba-san says.  His smile seems to widen, ever so slightly, and his one visible eye tracks across Shuuichi's face strangely. The gecko making an appearance, perhaps.  "Natori ... Shuuichi-san, was it?"

Shuuichi inclines his head, and waits.  (It's a bit strange, to hear that name on lips other than Takuma-san's.  He's the only one who calls him that, anymore.)

"I have a proposition for you, Natori-san.  An exorcism request that I believe would suit your ... unique talents."

Flattery, perhaps -- but why would the head of the Matoba clan feel the need to flatter him? "Tell me more," Shuuichi says. 

(He's never been terribly good at doing what's best.)

* * *

His "unique talents" are apparently performing rakugo and acting as bait. 

In the end, Shuuichi doesn't have to lift a single finger -- simply perform in a place where the target is likely to pass by, and keep its attention with every shift of his head and inflection and hand, every gesture of his fan, until Matoba-san and the team of exorcists he's brought with him spring the trap. 

He doesn't _have_ to lift a single finger, but he does -- when one of Matoba-san's minions decides that he'd like to bag a few extras and starts towards the rest of Shuuichi's audience. 

(He wonders, sometimes, what it would be like to perform only for youkai.  The human world is moving on from rakugo; the seats in the theater are rarely more than half full, but he's never _not_ had a full audience when youkai are involved.)

(Still, neither does he trust youkai as a whole, and the human world has plenty of other benefits.  So it's an idle thought, nothing more.)

"Matoba-san.  Control your colleagues." Shuuichi's voice cracks across the gathered crowd, theater-loud and doubly emphatic for the fact that it is a complete break in character. 

Matoba-san shakes his head when it looks like the other man will protest, and the four of them stand back, making no other attempt at interference, as Shuuichi directs a beaming smile back towards the rest of the crowd and taps his closed fan, once, against his chin.  "Now, where were we?  Ah, yes."

* * *

"I thank you again for your help," Matoba-san says, once the performance is done and the audience -- those who hadn't left immediately upon seeing the other exorcists -- is dispersed.  "You will receive full credit for your part in the capture."

"I would expect nothing less," Shuuichi says.  "And my fee from the bounty, of course."

They'd arranged this all ahead of time -- Shuuichi tacking on a 20% hazard fee over his usual performance costs just to see if it would make Matoba-san blink -- but Shuuichi knows from experience that it never hurts to double-check when money is involved. 

"Of course," Matoba-san agrees easily.  "I can bring it by after your next performance, if that would be acceptable to you."

"It would," Shuuichi says.  Curiosity prompts him to ask, "Why did you attend my performances?  You do not seem like the type."

Matoba-san's eyebrow raises, as though he's surprised to have been asked. "Research, of course.  This particularly youkai is known to have eaten inferior storytellers in the past.  I wished to judge for myself the likelihood of success."

( _So the rumors are true_ , Shuuichi remembers him saying, and wonders if it was just his prowess as a storyteller Matoba-san was researching.  His allegiance to a clan that by all rights should be dead is one of those things that they both know, but politely, neither of them discuss.)

"I must admit I was a bit surprised by your performance today," Matoba-san continues.  "It seemed -- smoother, than the others I've seen."

That's a backhanded compliment if Shuuichi has ever heard one, but luckily he has no need for Matoba-san's approval. 

And he's ... not wrong.  "Youkai were my first audience, after all," Shuuichi says with a shrug. 

"Is that why you stopped Matsumoto-san?  Sentiment?" Disdain colors Matoba-san's tone. 

"Hardly," Shuuichi replies lightly.  "But in my experience, most youkai won't cause trouble if you leave them alone.  And I'm not interested in making unnecessary enemies."

Not when simply being an exorcist and doing what was necessary would make him plenty already.  Takuma-san had warned him about that, but for once he hadn't needed it -- he didn't remember a lot about living in the Natori household, and he'd never made a point of going back, but some things, he doubted he'd ever forget. 

"Hmmm," Matoba-san replies, face giving no hint of his thoughts. 

"Besides," Shuuichi adds, flipping open the fan still in his hand and half-hiding his face, though his grin is probably more than clear from his tone. "It would have been a true tragedy to have missed the rest of my story, don't you think?"

Matoba-san shakes his head and turns away, but Shuuichi thinks he saw his mouth twitch, first. 

* * *

Shuuichi's next performance, Matoba-san is back.  Still sitting in the shadowy corners of the theater, and still with no greater reaction than that faint smile. 

But he's there, instead of just coming by after.  Shuuichi isn't entirely sure what that means, but he'd be willing to bet that it means _something_. 

Afterwards, he's not surprised to see Matoba-san in the same place as before.  "Your share," he says, handing over a small bag.

Shuuichi tucks it away without counting.  Sometimes the appearance of trust is more important than the emotion itself.  "My thanks."

"Can the Matoba clan depend on your assistance in future endeavors as well?"

Shuuichi hesitates, even though he already knows what he's going to say.  "Not sight unseen, of course.  But I'm happy to help out as long as I get my fair share."

(He thinks, briefly, that perhaps as a Natori he should feel more resistance to the idea of working with the Matoba clan, his family's long-time adversaries. But if he'd ever had an emotional attachment to that name, he's long since lost it.)

(And Matoba-san might not laugh at his rakugo, may have a _reputation_ among exorcist circles that even Shuuichi, who operates mostly on the edges of that world, knows about, but he's treated fairly with Shuuichi so far.)

(And, well.  Shuuichi will probably never be good at doing what's "best".)

"Of course," Matoba-san says, and inclines his head in Shuuichi's direction.  "Until next time, then."

... Shuuichi thinks he's looking forward to it.


End file.
